


I Can Still Recall (Our Last Summer)

by Pinkist



Series: Honey, Honey (How You Thrill Me) [7]
Category: LOONA (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, F/F, Gen, Light Angst, No beta only suffering, ex hero jungeun, only sort of au tho, pls read this i actually rlly liked writing it :((, vaguely romantic chuulip, you can read this as romantic or platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-13 20:40:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20588759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinkist/pseuds/Pinkist
Summary: How is Jungeun supposed to leave tomorrow in the face of such a discovery?In which Jungeun and Jiwoo were once a crime-fighting duo, but Jungeun's quit and Jiwoo just can't.





	I Can Still Recall (Our Last Summer)

**Author's Note:**

> Unedited, the abba song is Our Last Summer. I really liked writing this fic and I usually hate writing angst, so I really hope you guys like it!

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Jungeun’s face has a somber, serious kind of disappointment, shining clearly through her eyes despite her best attempts to hide it. In her hands, a damp towel, red with blood.

She sees Jiwoo do her best to hold back a wince, and Jungeun’s unsure if it was from pain or guilt. “I wanted to, I swear,” she insisted, holding Jungeun’s gaze, presumably so that her honesty would show on her face if it fell short on her words. “But then you told me your plans to go to University, and Jungeun I couldn’t hold you back, not when you looked so happy.”

Jiwoo’s reasons feel like glass excuses; transparent, and _ so _ so easy to shatter. It feels like a hit against Jungeun’s gut, stealing the wind from her lungs.

“Did you think I’d be happy when I found out? Finding out like _ this _ ?” _ Why didn’t you tell me when we still had time? _ “Or were you just hoping I’d never find out at all?” _ Don’t you trust me? J _ungeun’s frustration translates to added pressure against Jiwoo’s head wound, eliciting a sharp gasp from the younger girl.

Jungeun drops the towel as though she’d been burned, looking at her hands, thoroughly horrified. “Sorry,” she says, when the silence that follows the misstep grows so heavy, their shoulders ache from the weight. 

“So am I,” Jiwoo says. “I really am.”

Jungeun says nothing. She can’t find the words to. Instead, she stares hard, contemplatively, at the black domino mask on her bed, stained with sweat and blood, matching the one in the back of her closet, under old winter coats and hardly used scarves.

As a child, Jungeun had looked up to heroes; the costume-clad defenders of her little world. They had protected her, and she had adored them in return. It was a pipedream of hers, one she hadn’t expected to fulfill, not even as a sixteen-year-old, leaping from building-to-building beside her best friend. 

They were called Vigilantes at first -- nuisances that made police-work that much more difficult, until the city was collapsing under the tyrannical hand of a corrupt billionaire, willing to ruin innocent lives for profit, and the only two who could put him down were Noctua and Hummingbird. 

They didn’t name themselves, though Jiwoo certainly tried (Hummingbird? I made myself a _ penguin _ costume and they give me a different bird?” “You hum as you fight crime, what did you expect?” “Um? Penguin-Girl!”), and News Outlets of all kinds enjoyed spinning their underdog story and triumphant ending, as if they hadn’t been slandering the two vigilantes-- heroes --only two weeks ago.

But that was three years ago, and both Jiwoo and Jungeun had been retired for a year, quitting when it all became too much, too fast. At least that was what Jungeun believed, until Jiwoo’s bloodied body crawled through her bedroom window at four in the morning, broken and bruised.

It was horrifying and heart-wrenching all at once, and though that had been over an hour ago, Jungeun still hadn’t shaken herself from the feeling that her head was underwater. Everything sounded muted and distant, and looked distorted as if she was seeing through a shattered lens. 

“I guess I just thought you would have asked me to help. Or at least _ told _ me… We’re supposed to be a team Jiwoo.” _ I thought you trusted me. I thought I knew you. I thought it was us against the world, but were you against me too the whole time? Was I not enough? _

Jiwoo’s hand against her cheek is featherlight and lead-heavy at the same time. Her fingers barely graze the skin of Jungeun’s cheek, but each ghost of a touch burns her flesh and adds another weight to the anchor that tugs at her heart until it sinks. “I just wanted you to be happy. I want you to be happy. I don’t want to be the thing that ties you to the ground when you’re way past ready to fly.”

“Your bird puns are shit,” Jungeun comments, reaching up to grab Jiwoo’s hand and hold it in her own. Jiwoo’s knuckles are red like her strawberry lips, but tinted yellow. Jungeun knows in just a few hours the red will turn blue and purple, and her hurt will turn to heartbreak. 

Jungeun can’t ice Jiwoo’s hands, her only ice pack busy on Jiwoo’s knee, and a bag of peas is held against the younger girl’s face by her less-injured hand, so she wraps it instead, careful not to injure Jiwoo further. 

“They’re analogies,” Jiwoo corrects, flashing Jungeun a smile. It’s crooked and forced, but it’s there and Jungeun can’t help the relief that fills her, because Jiwoo without a smile is night without day. 

There’s still hurt brewing between the two of them, and nothing is settled, but the respite is necessary, because under the hurt and lack of understanding is love that’s spanned past their three years of work, starting from their first breaths on the planet.

They had loved each other before they met, and Jungeun’s sure that there’s been no pairing more perfect than the two of them, because the universe sculpted them to fit one another.

Jiwoo broke her heart today, and Jungeun wonders to herself how long Jiwoo has been breaking her own heart as well.

“Okay, they’re analogies. They’re still shit.”

“Well are you going to make your own and show me how it’s done?”

“No way.”

Jiwoo snorts, leaning her back against Jungeun’s bedroom wall, grunting as her shoulder shifts just a tad too much with the movement. “So how can you criticise my analogies then?”

“I don’t need to be an architect to spot a collapsing building.”

Jiwoo’s eyes flicker shut, a small smile on her face. Her fringe falls just past her brows, auburn strands resting above her long lashes. The light from her window highlights Jiwoo’s features, and in that moment Jungeun is transported to a happier time three years ago.

* * *

“The suit is bulletproof, not fire-resistant, idiot!” 

Her bedroom hardly changed in that time, the same off-white curtains, wooden shelves, and black standing fan. Three years ago, however, silver batons sat by the end of her bed, the ends discoloured from constant use. Beside them, a lasso; Jiwoo’s weapon of choice. 

Jiwoo sits against the wall, much like she was doing in the present, eyes shut, but smile present. “Well I lived didn’t I?”

“One day it won’t just be your suit. Your hair’s gonna catch fire too.” Her younger self sat opposite Jiwoo, black suit slightly charred, nothing in comparison to the way the fibres of Jiwoo’s costume were barely being held together by three connecting strands of fabric, the right side mostly burned off. 

Jiwoo insisted on fighting crime with her hair out, despite Jungeun’s constant warnings and demands. 

They laughed together at that, the thought of Jiwoo on fire, harrowing after the day, but both much too exhausted to react any other way. 

That day, Jiwoo grabbed Jungeun’s hand, and fell asleep against the wall, smile still on her face. Jungeun followed shortly after, but when she woke up, she was in her bed, note on her bedside, a faint coral lip-mark on her forehead. 

* * *

The note still sits on her bedside, but the batons are long gone, and Jiwo hadn’t fought with her hair out since.

“I missed you.” Jiwoo’s voice is vulnerable, and her left eye peels open. 

“I never left.”

Jiwoo shakes her head, and Jungeun can see her regret it instantly. She passes her friend a bottle of water, watching her with blatant concern as Jiwoo struggles to take small sips. “I missed _ this _ with you.”

A hot fury envelops Jungeun, but it’s extinguished the next second with ice-cold emotional fatigue. “You should have told me then.”

“If you knew, would you still be packing to leave tomorrow?”

The answer is simple, and Jungeun doesn’t even need to think about it. “No.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

Jungeun’s eyes narrow into slits. “Staying would have been my decision.”

“But would you be happy?”

Would she be happy? For the last eight months she’d been preparing for exams and applications, and getting herself excited at the prospect of becoming a doctor-- somebody’s saviour outside the mask. She hadn’t even contemplated returning to the life of crime-fighting because if she was honest, it hardly even appealed to her anymore. But… “I would be with you.”

“I’m really selfish,” Jiwoo breaths. “Because I want to let you agree with me. But I can’t be the person who takes your chance of living the life you want from you.”

“Why won’t you let me make my choice?”

“You’ve followed me around since we were kids, protecting me, helping me, making sure I was alright. I know you did it because you wanted to, but that meant half your decisions were mine.” Jungeun opens her mouth to interrupt Jiwoo, but she simply speaks louder and faster, words tumbling from her mouth as if it was a broken tap with a leak.

“I wanted to do gymnastics, and you went with me to make sure I was okay even though I knew you wanted to take piano lessons. I wanted to go to a Red Velvet concert, and you went with me without complaint even though Twice was on the same day, and you loved them. I wanted to jump off a building to save people in a campy bird outfit, and you jumped right after me, and I know you said it was because you admired heroes, but I know why you really jumped, and I was selfish enough to let you.”

Jungeun can feel the itching in her throat, and the pooling of tears in her eyes, but she doesn’t dare blink lest a drop falls down her cheek. Because Jiwoo is right, but Jungeun will never regret those moments. 

Any doubts of trust or worth vanish with the knowledge that her best friend, her partner, would sacrifice her personal happiness for Jungeun. Because Jungeun knew that if Jiwoo let herself be selfish, she would let Jungeun keep following her, just as she had been since they were young. Because Jungeun knew that Jiwoo’s ideal future was the two of them fighting evil, not one where she was a solo act whose once partner was on the other side of the country, learning how to become a medical professional

Jungeun has loved and admired heroes-- those flashy saviours, and keepers of Justice, since she was young. She’s loved heroes since she was nine and she was saved from some two-bit bullies by a girl with brown hair, a thick fringe, and two front teeth missing. Since that moment, she’s wanted to save people, but that brown-haired girl in particular.

“I’m sorry Jungeun, but I can’t let you follow me this time.”

Jungeun launches herself at Jiwoo without a word, throwing her arms around Jiwoo’s neck, mindful of her injuries. 

They cry together until Jungeun’s sure they’re both dehydrated, then she demands Jiwoo take more than a couple of sips from her water bottle.

It feels like forever and a second until Jungeun takes initiative and breaks the silence. “I still have one more day until I have to go.”

Jiwoo looks a mix of confused and hopeful.

“We can have a last hurrah. One last day with Noctua and Hummingbird. One last day, until I retire.”_ One last day until I leave. _

They’ve spoken about it briefly, but neither of them has been too willing to go deeper with the conversation. They’re aware that the distance isn’t a permanent goodbye, technology can make sure of that, but it’s also the first time they’ll be in separate cities-- separate states. 

Jungeun can feel herself wilt like a flower in winter just thinking about it.

“This better not restart some sort of weird love of crime-fighting you’ve never had until today,” Jiwoo warns. The full effect of the threat is marred by the good cheer in her expressive eyes, and the smile, full of teeth and genuine warmth that she displays.

Jungeun shakes her head with a snigger, searching through her closet for her old costume. “Nope, that weirdo would be you, not me. I think I’m more interested in patching people up instead of breaking them down.

When Jungeun turns, almost fully dressed, Jiwoo is giving her the most tender look imaginable. “It suits you,” she says, and it almost sounds like a goodbye.

“You’ve given me a lot of practice. I think I’m an expert on burns now.”

Jiwoo laughs, though it sounds a little wet. Jungeun doesn’t comment, knowing her throat is just as congested and her eyes just as red-rimmed.

They spend the rest of the early morning, and most of the afternoon fighting crime; breaking up fights, and starting them. Jungeun relishes in the rush of the moment, noting each personal monument as she passes them. She sees them everywhere; echoes of their partnership are scattered throughout the city, in the scratched initials at the top levels of decrepit buildings, or the first aid kits in secret hidey-holes. 

The city is an open ode of their love for one another. 

Jungeun remembers saving Jiwoo's ass in the dark alleys of the inner city, and can almost hear the squealed laughter of two girls sharing their first after-patrol-fast-food-break, and seeing the stunned expression on the drive-thru worker's face. 

They stop atop of Captial Bank, and Jungeun watches Jiwoo launch herself from the building, eyes closed as she drops face-first to the ground. Jiwoo waits until the very last moment to pull out her lasso, attaching a hook to the end and tossing it up with all her strength. It latches on to the roof of the bank, pulling her back up. 

The look on Jiwoo's face makes her look younger, and Jungeun feels sixteen again. Living her life moment-to-moment, with only half a plan, feeling on top of the world as she stands by her best friend's side. 

They rest on top of the bank, sitting so close they were almost on top of each other. Their breaths came out in puffs of mist, as the cool night becomes a warm morning, and their costumes are damp from traversing over morning dew. 

They don't stop until late into the afternoon, and Jungeun's sure they made the news, being more active today than they'd been for nearly a year.

Jungeun feels like she's glowing; totally eclipsed in a feeling of Euphoria. It makes the farewell even sadder. 

Jiwoo drives her to the airport as the night begins to settle, and they stay together until they physically can’t, and Jungeun pulls Jiwoo aside and gives her the warmest hug she can, pushing years of love and trust, and appreciation into the action. 

In response, Jiwoo presses a kiss on either cheek, and a final one on her temple. “I’m going to miss you, idiot.”

“You should,” Jungeun replies, softening quickly at the look on Jiwoo’s face. “I’m gonna miss you so much,” she says, melting further into the hug.

They part slowly, knowing Jungeun only had so much time to spend on this farewell before she missed her flight.

“Take care of yourself, yeah?”

“Well I’ll have to. My doctor’s leaving me.”

With that, Jiwoo slides something into her front pocket, and pushes her forward. Startled, Jungeun has no time to react, and when she turns to object, Jiwoo has gone, slipping into the crowd with the practiced ease of a vigilante turned hero. Even with her expert eyes, Jungeun can’t find her.

Her hands make their way to her pocket, pulling out Jiwoo’s final gift. It’s a small paper square, one that usually sat on her bedside. The note from the day of the fire. 

The familiar chicken scratch of Jiwoo’s younger self makes her smile like it did the day she first woke up to it. ‘Sorry I made you worry. I can’t help myself sometimes, and I jump without thinking, but you’re always there to catch me even if you jump after. I guess that’s why we’re Hummingbird & Noctua. Because we’re better together. Or at least, you make me better.’ 

It’s written in red ink, and isn’t particularly detailed, but it means a lot to Jungeun. Someone like Jiwoo who leaps and bounds from moment to moment, hardly staying still long enough to ponder, bothered to sit and write her a note, short and messy as it was.

Under it in black, slightly neater cursive, is a letter from Jiwoo’s present self. Succinct as always, but effective. ‘Even miles won’t change a thing. You will always make me better.’

Just this once, Jiwoo takes the role of the healer, holding Jungeun’s heart, until it can beat steadily on its own. It hurts to leave Jiwoo and their partnership behind, and it hurts even more that Jiwoo will be fighting on her own, getting injured on her own.

But any hesitancy is overpowered by the knowledge that Jiwoo wants this for her too. That Jungeun’s personal ambitions matter to he more than the night gig she loves. 

Jungeun walks to her gate, not quite confident, but no longer hurt or full of doubts.

Some nights, she’ll stay up and wonder what could have been if she stayed, but most nights, she’ll be happy she forged her own path. This new path. 

And in a few years, she’ll return to Jiwoo’s side, a different kind of saviour, but still her partner, because Jiwoo was right. They made each other better.

* * *

If Jiwoo was more selfish she would have asked Jungeun to stay. If Jiwoo was more selfish she would have confessed before Jungeun even got to the airport. 

But the life of a hero was an uncertain one, and she couldn't lock Jungeun into a life where she would ultimately be left behind to care for the grave of her once-partner. Jiwoo looked after she leaped, she always had, and she's always known it would be her death.

Maybe in another time, or another life, she could tell Jungeun the depths of her affection. But now now, not yet at least. Now when Jungeun had a life ahead of her and a dream that made her happy. 

Jiwoo was a selfish person, but having Jungeun in her life had made her better. Distance wasn't absence, and she would keep getting better, so that when Jungeun returned, Jiwoo could be selfish just one more time and fulfill her own dream.

* * *

Bonus:

"I always figured you'd have to migrate at some point."

"Owl's don't migrate, Jiwoo."

"You need to stop correcting me when I'm right."

"I wish I could hit you through my laptop screen." 

"Geeze, migration is making you extra cranky."

"I'm gonna hang up on you."

Jiwoo grins, leaning closer to the screen so that Jungeun can see how impish she looks. "No you're not," she sings.

"No I'm not," Jungeun agrees.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone has any prompts or suggestions im always open to them! Got a cute one the other day that im planning on starting soon <3


End file.
